Chapter 16: Death by a Thousand Cuts

They witnessed her destruction,

Then were left to wonder why,

She saw nothing but darkness,

Though the stars shone in her eyes,

But maybe they'd forgotten,

When they failed to see the cracks,

That a star's light shines the brightest,

When it's starting to collapse

~e.h.

Sarevok

Sarevok watched the priest's hands clench and unclench in barely restrained fury, glaring at the ranger sitting on the other end of the dining table. His own hand was curled loosely around the amber and jet hilt of the dagger at his belt as he reclined in his chair, all but praying the Helmite acted on his rage.

"Tell me, Valygar, did you enjoy your time with her last night? Having her all to yourself?"

"Uh, what? Who?"

"Ilyrana, you drunkard!"

"There's no need to shout," Valygar sighed, rubbing his head and wincing. "And yes, I quite enjoyed her company and my time away from the likes of you. Though, I hardly think it fair to apply the label of drunkard after one night of overindulgence."

Anomen shook with the obvious effort it took to control his anger. Sarevok slowly began leaning forward, ready to cut the man's throat if he tried to advance on the ranger.

"Overindulgence? And what else did you indulge in?"

Valygar's eyes darkened as he realized what the other man was insinuating.

"I don't feel good, so I'm going to pretend you didn't just imply that I took liberties with our leader while she was intoxicated. Were I you, Anomen, I would walk away right now. This hangover won't last forever."

"Are you threatening me, Corthala?"

"And if I am? Are you going to attack me? While I sit here, unarmed?"

Valygar's eyes flicked to Sarevok, who was seated behind where Anomen stood. The Helmite glanced over his shoulder, noted the Deathbringer's grip on his knife, and the way his eyes had begun to glow in anticipation.

"This doesn't concern you, abomination. You've no right to interfere."

"I don't care if it doesn't concern me. I'm just hoping you'll prove how utterly foolish you really are by attacking the ranger. It'll be the perfect excuse to rip you apart, and Rana can't even be angry with me, considering how much she cares for him. Though, I think we all know she wouldn't be too upset that I finally silenced your constant pathetic whining."

Sarevok watched the truth of his words hit home, before Anomen could cover it up. At least the fool knew she didn't care about him, that his delusions didn't extend that far, yet.

"Don't think I don't know the real reason you wish to fight me. Don't think I haven't seen your eyes upon her, as well!"

"Are you going to go around threatening every man who looks at her, knight? I would think the very idea of that would be exhausting."

"Then you don't deny it?" Anomen snarled, turning to fully face Sarevok.

"Deny what? Looking at her? No, churl, I do not deny it. I'm many things, but I'm still a man, and she is divinely wrought," Sarevok replied, watching with amusement as Anomen's fists began to clench again at his words.

"She's your sister," he spat.

"That doesn't make her any less desirable."

Just as Anomen's fury began to cloud what very little remained of his already inadequate judgment, Keldorn stepped into the dining room and pinned them all with an impressive scowl. Thus ending Sarevok's almost successful attempts to bait the priest.

"What's going on here?"

"This doesn't concern you either, Keldorn."

Sarevok and Valygar exchanged a look of mild surprise. As venomous as Anomen often was, he curbed it quite a bit when speaking to the older paladin.

"As your superior, Sir Anomen, you will address me with a little more respect, and yes, the tension in this room does concern me."

"I was merely trying to figure out what possessed Valygar to keep Ilyrana at a bar all day and into the night. Especially without sending word of their whereabouts."

"Well, seeing as how our Ilyrana is a grown woman, she can do whatever she pleases. Though, yes, it would have been nice to know where they were so we wouldn't have had to worry unnecessarily."

Anomen ground his teeth, obviously dissatisfied with the man's reasonable tone and logic. Having no rational response, he bowed his head to him, though it was obvious it annoyed him to do so.

"As you say, Sir Keldorn," Anomen said, then turned on his heel and left the room.

Keldorn turned to the other two men, noting how Sarevok's hand had been around his dagger, and that Valygar had appeared to be reaching for his boot knife.

"Alright, now tell me what this was really about."

"What do you think? Anomen's madness just shot up another degree. He practically accused me of trying to take advantage of Rana last night when we were out having drinks and lost track of the time."

"'Practically' nothing, ranger. The idiot was working himself into a jealous frenzy, and he reeked of drink far worse than you do. I can only assume he's begun drinking whiskey in place of coffee in the mornings now."

Keldorn sighed, his eyes softening as he listened to them. Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he joined them at the table.

"Ever since I began following Ilyrana I've kept an eye on him, if only because he was an aspiring knight and needed my guidance. After his ceremony, it appeared the trials had humbled him somewhat, and that he would make a fine addition to our Order. Over the past year and a half or more, and especially here lately, he seems to be backsliding into the very behavior I once had concerns about."

"You mean the hot headedness? That he wants the glory that comes along with doing heroic deeds but cares not a whit about the people he helps? That he thinks Rana is his in some way? Don't get me wrong, I'm protective of her, too, we all are in our own ways, but none of the rest of us lose our cool every time she converses with another man. Nor do we go around threatening each other when she spends more time with one of us. I'm honestly surprised he hasn't verbally laid into Imoen yet for being her closest friend, and for sharing a room with her the night before!"

Keldorn looked completely taken aback by the ranger's outburst. Not surprising, when Valygar was perhaps the most level-headed one here, and the man appeared to be seething.

"I gives me great pleasure to say I told you so," Sarevok snarled.

"You did. You were right about him. This pretty much proves it."

"Right about what? Is this a bigger problem than I previously thought it to be? And if so, why is it only just now being brought to my attention?"

"It's been a little chaotic lately, Keldorn," Valygar replied, then took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. "Ugh, now it's gone cold."

As Valygar went to get himself a fresh cup, Sarevok began voicing his opinions about the knight.

"He's unstable, paladin, this much was obvious to me within hours of first meeting him. And it's only growing worse. It's not just possessive behavior in regards to the girl, he's clearly obsessed and becoming increasingly violent where she's concerned. The ranger and I spoke of this yesterday, and this only confirms it."

"Sarevok's right. It's only a matter of time before Anomen has too much to drink, sees Rana breathe in the direction of another man, and snaps. At least when she gets drunk, you just have to worry about her curling up and falling asleep in inconvenient places. Not going on a homicidal rampage. Unless you count the Slayer, but alcohol seems to dampen her more violent urges."

Keldorn listened to them, his face growing grim.

"And what does Ilyrana herself have to say about all this?"

"She…" Valygar paused, seeming to be careful in choosing his words. "She's made it very clear to him on more than one occasion that she does not reciprocate his affections. I believe she puts too much faith in his knighthood to really consider his behavior potentially dangerous to herself or us."

Sarevok narrowed his eyes at the man. It was obvious he was withholding something. Perhaps he and the girl had spoken of this last night? Was what he was saying the truth? Was Rana so naive she couldn't see Anomen's downward spiral? Or did she just refuse to see it for some reason?

"I see," the paladin replied wearily. "After losing Mazzy and the others just days ago, I'd hate to send Anomen away when we're already so short in number. Still, if what you say is true, then it may be a bigger risk yet to allow him to stay. As leader, it should ultimately be Rana's call to make, but as his commanding officer, I cannot sit idly by while he issues threats and poses a danger to others. I will think on what to do, and pray Torm will guide me to make the right decision."

Before either of them could reply, Rana shuffled into the dining room. Her damp hair was piled into a lopsided bun on top of her head and she wore a too large white long sleeve shirt that fell to mid thigh over frayed black leggings. She stopped when she saw the three of them, narrowed her eyes into a sleepy glare, then padded over to the long counter against the wall where the pot of coffee sat.

"Good morning, Rana," Keldorn and Valygar said.

She grunted in reply.

"Um, Rana, is that my shirt?" Keldorn asked.

Another grunt.

"Are you the one responsible for nearly all my shirts going missing?"

"Now that you mention it, I'm missing a few as well," Valygar added.

Silence, except for the sound of stirring as she added liberal quantities of cream and sugar to her cup.

"Rana? Would you like to explain why you're wearing my shirt," Keldorn asked, aiming for sternness but falling way short of it.

"No."

Sarevok rubbed his hand over his mouth, trying to hide his amusement at her irritable, defensive tone.

"What are you going to do, demand she take it off and return it?" He drawled.

Keldorn cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable at the suggestion and shooting a reproachful look at him.

"Of course not, but I would like it back when she's done wearing it. Along with any others she may have stolen."

"Borrowed," Rana corrected as she shuffled to the table and took the chair between him and the paladin.

"It's only borrowing when you plan on returning it in a timely manner, and don't try and lie and say you were going to do that," Valygar replied.

"Mmkay."

The two men huffed in unison at her, which earned them a small, sleepy smirk over the rim of her mug.

"I was going to speak with you this morning, but I'm already late for an interview with two people for service positions, if you're in agreement."

"Sure," Rana replied, eyes closed as she savored her likely too sweet coffee milk.

"Alright, I shall speak to you upon my return. I should be back by noon, hopefully with servants in tow," Keldorn said and rose to depart.

Rana watched him leave with half lidded eyes, clearly still not completely awake yet.

"Seriously, though, I need my shirts back, I don't have hardly any left, and I'm a little short on gold for some reason," Valygar said after the old man had left.

She huffed, sipped more coffee, then folded her legs beneath her in the chair and yawned before replying.

"Fine. I need to go through my bag anyway. If I find your shirts, I'll give them to you."

"And not steal them right back again?"

"Ugh. You're grumpy this morning."

"Waking up feeling like I've been trampled by a herd of cattle then being threatened by a raving lunatic will do that."

Ilyrana looked quizzically at Sarevok.

"Not this raving lunatic," Sarevok clarified, making her lips twitch, almost into a smile. "The knight."

She frowned, gulped down more caffeine, and turned back to Valygar. A look passed between them, all but verifying they'd spoken of him recently.

"What happened?"

"He tried to accuse me of ungentlemanly behavior towards you last night."

"Huh. Well, if that were the case, you're terrible in bed 'cause I don't remember a thing."

Both men choked on their coffee. Unperturbed, she rose to make herself another cup.

"Gods, Rana, must you make a joke of everything?"

"I must," she sighed dramatically, her back to them as she reassembled her ingredients.

"Anyway, before you came in here, we were discussing-"

Valygar's voice died away as Jaheira walked in and stopped when she saw him. Rana looked at her, then at Valygar, loudly stirred her coffee, then looked back at Jaheira.

"Valygar, may I have a word with you?" The druid asked, almost shyly.

Sarevok exchanged a look with Rana as they watched the ranger quickly get to his feet and go to follow her. Jaheira glanced at Rana, then averted her eyes, which made Rana raise an eyebrow and look at Valygar as he walked past, eyes fixed on the other woman and a blush spreading across his face.

"Huh." Rana said in amusement, tasting her coffee, then turning back to add more sugar.

All thoughts of Anomen, the ranger, the druid, all of them left his mind as he realized they were alone. Rising from his chair he went to stand behind her, reaching around her for the coffee pot. She froze mid-stir as she felt how near he was. Seeing as how she hadn't bolted, he refilled his cup, then put both it and the pot down, before placing his hands atop the counter on either side of her. Trapping her.

"What are you doing?" She whispered.

Leaning forward, he lowered his head until his lips hovered just above the back of her neck, which was enticingly bare to him with her hair out of the way. She shivered when she felt his breath against her skin.

"I've been thinking, little one," he whispered back, lips just barely brushing her skin as he spoke. "About you and I."

When she took a breath to reply, he laid an open mouthed kiss on the top of her spine, just above the uppermost X scar. A soft moan escaped her, spurring him to nip at the back of her neck. He felt her slowly settle her weight back against him, and he couldn't stop his hands from encircling her hips, holding her there.

"There is no 'you and I', brother," she murmured, obviously throwing that word at him as some kind of last ditch effort to dissuade him, as if it weren't far too late for that; as if that even mattered anymore, or ever at all to begin with.

"There has always been a 'you and I', dear sister," he replied, exploring the pale slope of her neck, pleased that she unknowingly leaned her head to the side, allowing him better access. "In one form or another, we have always been bound to each other."

"Sarevok, we can't do this," her voice coming out hoarse and pleading, in direct contrast to her words, as his hands slipped beneath the hem of her shirt to trace the jagged scar on her side.

"We're half god, pet, we can do whatever we please," he told her, fingers teasing higher towards her breasts.

"Except that's not enough for you," she hissed back, trying to muster the willpower to push him away. "You want me to become something I don't want to be just to satisfy your need for power."

"Rana, right now, all I want," his hands drifted back down to her waist to turn her to face him. "Is to taste you again."

Before she could protest, he took her mouth with his, swallowing whatever she was going to say. Her hands went to his chest, but she didn't push him away, neither did she melt against him like before. His hands slipped back beneath her shirt, caressing her lower back. A pleased growl rumbled in his chest when he felt her give up her stubborn resistance, yielding to him with one of her maddening little moans. She went up on her toes, arching up to him, her arms wrapping around his neck as he pulled her tightly against his chest and deepened the kiss.

This was burning out of his control yet again. He'd meant to tease her, fuel her desire until she could no longer resist him. So she would be open to see reason. But once more he was drowning in her, finding it difficult to think beyond the softness of her skin and how damnably little of it he had mapped out beneath his palms. He needed her closer. Wanted to hear her cry out his name as she did the night in the woods.

Lifting her onto the counter, he wedged his hips between her thighs, snarling into her mouth when her legs wrapped around him and he could feel the heat of her against him, unable to stop from yanking her closer still. Reaching up, he slid the pins out of her hair so that that heavy mane fell free down her back, allowing him to thread his fingers through it.

Even as he tried to recall the layout of this place, to think of a nearby room that would be unoccupied at this hour, reality tapped him on the shoulder and reminded him of what was at stake. He'd started this, and gods he wanted to finish it, but he needed to stop them before someone walked in. He knew if they were caught she'd never risk this again.

Summoning up every ounce of willpower he possessed, he slowed the kiss, turning it from desperate to languid. When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing a little unevenly, and he was finding it difficult to let go of her and step away. The way she looked up at him, eyes shifting between amber and honeyed gold in color, could almost make him forget why he was surrendering her right now. What his end goal was.

As if reading his thoughts, which Hell, she may very well be doing, she unwrapped her legs from around his waist then slid her hands down from the back of his neck to his chest, pushing against him to get him to back away and let her down.

"This shouldn't keep happening. We can't do this."

"Your body says otherwise."

She shot him a glare as she snatched up her cup of coffee and backed away, either because she wanted to put some distance between them or because she was tired of craning her neck up to speak to him.

"Animal magnetism doesn't equate to good sense. You've made your intentions clear, as I've made mine."

"As I was trying to say before I got… distracted, I've been thinking about our previous conversation. I didn't intend to start badgering you about your destiny. It was a discussion I had planned to have in a very different setting."

"You mean after you'd seduced me, while I was struggling with the warm and fuzzies. Your ego really needs to be cut down some if you think you're good enough to actually make me consider godhood."

"Careful, little one, that almost sounded like a challenge," he purred, unable to stop from smirking when he saw her reflexively reach for the dagger she liked to fidget with and that wasn't there; her nervous tell.

"I'm not wrong, though, am I? You want to share in the power I'll possess as a goddess. I don't want to become one. So we have nothing more to say to each other. And I don't like you ambushing me to try and wear me down."

"I would be more inclined to believe that if you actually sounded sincere. And if you didn't have as hard a time keeping your hands off me as I do you."

"Just because my body wants yours doesn't mean I have no compunctions about bartering with it. Besides, I would have an easier time of it if you kept your hands to yourself."

Sarevok was surprised to find he actually enjoyed this back and forth with her, even though his patience for her pigheadedness was wearing thin. And contrary to her words, if she really didn't want this, she wouldn't still be standing here trying to convince him of it.

"Then tell me to go, Rana. Right now. Tell me I'm dismissed from your company and you want me gone. Threaten to kill me if I ever come near you again," he took a step toward her, noting the flicker of distress in her eyes as she realized he was calling her bluff.

"What would be the point? You do what you want, you always have. I can't make you leave."

"That's the lamest thing I've heard in awhile," he mocked, throwing her words from last night back at her.

"Fine," she snarled. "You're dismissed! I want you gone before sunset; if you're not, we'll see how long you last against all of us combined. And if you come back, the Slayer will be waiting."

"Sunset? Why not now?" He asked, taking another step closer, so that her back hit the edge of the table when she automatically tried to maintain the distance between them. "If you don't want this between us, then just say so. And don't tell me you shouldn't want this. Tell me you don't."

"If I say it will you leave me alone?"

"Unlikely, because you obviously can't say it, and even if you parrot the words, they'll ring hollow. But, by all means, convince me."

"Fuck you."

"Soon."

"Hey, sis… you okay?"

Imoen appeared in the doorway, and he wanted to break something. It was infuriating to constantly be interrupted by one of her minions. Especially the brat, who was already a big enough obstacle in his path to power without her being underfoot. The urge to roar at her to go annoy the bard and leave them the Hell alone was almost too strong to resist. The damned girl was too much like her sister, though, to hope that would actually work. She'd likely do the exact opposite and start following him around everywhere, which made his head throb at just the thought of her incessant chirping.

"I'm fine. I was just grabbing some coffee," Rana replied, holding up her cup, before lowering her voice so only he could hear her. "We're done here."

"For now."

She left the dining room, with Imoen following her after giving him another one of those piercing stares.

Imoen knew. Or at least suspected. He hoped he wouldn't have to do anything about that.

Ideally, Rana would give up this tiresome resistance as well as assert her dominance over the riffraff. The mageling may have grown in power, thanks to her magic and late blooming bhaalspawn abilities, but she lacked the maturity, and willingness to get her hands dirty, to actually challenge her older sister's authority. If Rana brought Imoen to heel, and cut the Harper and Helmite loose, preferably in a bloody fashion, then he truly believed he could attain what he desired. First, Rana. Then, he could spend the rest of this war persuading her that Ascension was the wisest choice for her. For them. Once she was his, he looked forward to coaxing her affections to the point where she could deny him nothing.

Remembering the vulnerability in Rana's voice last night, he knew his plan was sound. If he could be patient.

Remembering the flirtiness, as well, only reinforced the knowledge that she was affected by all of this just as strongly as he was.

Again, though, he needed to be patient.

Even if his temperament was rapidly worsening thanks to the restless nights he was reduced to, as thoughts of her bled into dreams that left him on the cusp of violence if he didn't claim her soon.

He would be patient.

He. Would. Be. Patient.

Ilyrana

"I don't like how close you let him get to you. Or the way he was looking at you."

"I'm tired, Im, and still a little drunk from last night I think, I wasn't paying attention."

"Which is dangerous! Do we need to post a guard or something?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Besides, if he was going to attack me, he had way better opportunity on the way here, when it was just us and Viconia, and while I was completely tapped out from using the Slayer."

"I guess so… it's just, well, seeing the two of you that close, it really brings it into perspective. The size difference, I mean. Have you always been this small? I mean, I know he's like six and a half feet tall, but I think you're shrinking. How'd you ever stab him with those short little arms?"

"Ha. Ha. Ha. I'm not that much smaller than you are. Anyway, the closer I let him get, the easier it is to reach his weak spots, so stop worrying so much. You're turning into Jaheira."

"That's a cheap shot. I may worry, but I don't nag. At least not at the master level she's capable of."

"Uh huh. So, are you gonna tell me what you meant by 'my tiefling', last night?"

Ilyrana was desperate to change the subject. That had been way, way, too close. If Imoen were elven, or even just half, like Jaheira was, she would have overheard part of their conversation before she had even reached the dining room. Just as she had overheard Keldorn talking about dismissing Anomen for whatever reason. Which she assumed he would talk with her about later, so she would worry about it then.

And gods help me if Imoen had walked in one minute sooner. Hard to pretend I don't want him when she sees me wrapped around the bastard.

Or if she'd seen him tucking her into bed last night. She wondered if Imoen knew he was the one who carried her up the stairs. Or if her sister just assumed she managed it on her own. The thought of her overhearing her drunkenly flirting with him made her cringe.

"Well, um, while you and Valygar were depleting this poor town of it's alcohol stores, he and I might of… um… well, made love."

Ilyrana stumbled on the steps up to the second floor, grasping the rail to steady herself as she looked wide-eyed at her sister.

"Made love? I know this wasn't your first time, or his, so I'm a little confused as to why you would use that term."

"Well, it felt differently from the other times. With other men, I mean. I dunno, I didn't feel like I was just a body being used to get him off. I felt like he was really looking at me. Touching me. You know?"

Ilyrana almost answered yes. She stopped herself in time, though, from making herself feel like a total idiot.

She had felt that way with Yoshimo. At least, she thought she had. Up until his betrayal, he had made her believe he cared for her. Wanted her. Even if their relationship had been rocky, and there was always a sense of wariness about him, the sex had been passionate enough to keep her holding on. Man, she was stupid.

"No," she eventually replied, trying to hide the pain and the rage. "Can't say I do."

"We spent half the day in bed, just talking, and cuddling. It was… nice. I never had that before. I never wanted that before. But, now, with him, I do."

When they reached Ilyrana's bedroom, Imoen flung herself onto the bed, a sappy smile on her face. Ilyrana was happy for her. Just as she envied the joy in her sister's eyes. She had never, and likely would never, have that. Especially with Sarevok. She needed to remember that. Regardless of how much he made her ache for him, how his deep, commanding voice made her legs weak, he would never give her that kind of contentment. She doubted if he was even capable of caring enough about another to want to. If he had ever truly cared about anything other than his ambition.

He did once… long ago. There was one thing, one person, whom he cared for above all things.

She shook that thought away. What he had been as a child didn't matter. That child was dead. The man was a very different animal. One she needed to stay away from. Far, far away.

"So, whatcha got planned for today?"

"Well, I was thinking of organizing my bag. Could use the help? Or, if you're too lazy, you can just keep me company."

"Oh… um, Haer'Dalis and I are fixing to head over to the shops. You want us to pick up anything?"

Some kind of uneasy feeling went through her. If she didn't know any better, she would say it was jealousy.

"I don't think so. I need to take inventory before I figure out what I need. But let me know if they have anything rare or interesting. Have fun."

"Okay! I'll see you later!"

Imoen sprung off the bed, gave her sister a quick, suffocating hug, then bounded out of the room. Ilyrana watched her leave, still staring out the doorway some time after the other girl's departure. Taking a deep breath, she began winding her hair up into another bun, pinning it in place as she went to close, and lock, her door.

The last thing she wanted was another ambush. From anyone. Glancing at a chair that sat at a nearby desk, she briefly played with the idea of propping it under the door handle, as an added measure of defense. She decided against it. For now.

Picking up the small, purple Bag of Holding, she set it on the bed, took another gulp of coffee, then began reaching in and drawing things out one by one. She had a sudden, perverse desire to climb on her bed, take hold of the bag, and uphend it onto the floor. But the image of being stuck in a mountain of crap inside her room, having to shout for someone to come pull her out, kept her from acting on that impulse. There probably wasn't that much stuff in there, but still, best not chance it.

Piles began to form on the dark red sheets of her bed, as well as on the gleaming hardwood floor around her. Sorting out her clothes, Valygar's shirts, and Keldorn's shirts, she tried not to feel too grumpy about parting with them. After all, once they had servants, she wouldn't need to steal theirs because hers would all be kept washed. Still, though, men's shirts were so comfy to sleep in.

Various weapons, some magical, others mundane, made up another pile. Mostly daggers with interesting carvings in the hilt, or jewels she meant to pry loose. A few stray, broken arrows, that she tossed into a separate trash pile. Two full quivers, one of which she hung on the desk chair, the other set aside to return to the bag once it was cleaned out. Her shortbow.

Edwin's necklace, that she gently wrapped in cloth. Her gray wolf's fur blanket. Her bedroll, that was looking pretty torn up, so she made a mental note to look into replacing it at the shops. Her matte black armor, forged from the scales of a shadow dragon she'd slain, which she rarely wore. It was heavier than her regular leather armor, which she just pulled out, and wearing it while using her bow for prolonged periods of time drained her too quickly, turning her arms into jelly. Only when she thought her swords would be better suited for a fight did she draw out this armor beforehand, as it was far harder to pierce, and could withstand more punishment.

Next came her chest of soaps, oils, and lotions. Then, her case of jewelry, most of it kept for it's beauty, or magical properties, though none of it was very rare or valuable. Just bits and baubles she found pleasing to the eye and wanted to keep. Glancing through it, she saw that it must have come open at some point, since none of it was organized anymore. She'd sort that out later.

Pots, pans, eating utensils, bowls, and her favorite coffee mug were scattered randomly throughout, and she put them in their own pile to be washed.

Her ring of keys.

Boots, boots, and more boots. She had her weaknesses. Soft, leather footwear of the elven fashion was one of them.

Some petrified food of questionable origin went into the trash pile, along some old bloody bandages that were brown and flaky with age. No telling how long those had been in there, or even whose blood that was on them.

Her medical kit, complete with catgut stitches, clean bandages, and other such accoutrements.

A sizeable collection of herbs of the medicinal variety, as well as for teas of varying uses, and her poisons, which she also possessed in already extracted liquid form in a dozen or so tiny vials. This was her newest hobby, perhaps. One she had been neglecting out of necessity while on the road.

While she was growing up in Candlekeep, Gorion had gently, but insistently, encouraged her to pursue her skills with the bow. In the beginning, Rana had been more than happy to, as she had found the physical exertion, along with the challenge, to be fun. Especially coupled with the fact that she had a natural talent for it, unsurprising considering she was elven.

Becoming a ranger had been the obvious next step. To study the different animal species that inhabited the Sword Coast. Along with the dangerous humanoid creatures that constantly plagued remote villages and woodland homes. To become emotionally invested in safeguarding the common folk from these threats. She'd even worshipped Mielikki. Though this was also due in part to the fact that Drizzt Do'urden worshipped her as well. And being a young, impressionable girl who aspired to become a ranger, like the famed drow, meant she had emulated him quite a bit.

Over time, however, she began to drift away from all of that, as she came to care less and less about those outside her circle, as well as the duties of a ranger. During her alliance with the Shadow Thieves, she found that worshipping Mask, the God of Shadows, felt right in a way that serving The Forest Queen hadn't. She had always been a bit of a kleptomaniac, enjoying the thrill that came with pulling off a successful heist. Her father's blood, too, seemed more inclined to the deadlier aspects of the rogue. Though the only one who knew about the shift was Yoshimo.

Carefully, she stored the vials in the desk drawer for now. Her herbs, she sorted by use and laid them out on her dresser.

Rifling through the bag once more, she felt a sudden electric current course through her as her fingers brushed against the hilt of a sword. She froze in surprise, having completely forgotten that it had been residing here all this time. Slowly, she dipped her other hand into the cloth to grasp the weapon with both hands, as it was far too heavy to lift with just one.

Straining under it's weight, she dropped it onto the bed and stared at it. It was in its sheath, but still she could practically feel it, as if it possessed a piece of her soul, as well. Reaching out, she clutched the hilt and slowly withdrew it a few inches, revealing the rippling dark steel.

This was the first time she'd touched this sword since she'd bought the bag and transferred most of her belongings into it. That last time, she'd sought out a secluded place, away from the others, and taken a whetstone and cloth to the blade to clean and maintain it. No matter the issues she had with the weapon, and it's master, she'd seen no point in neglecting something that finely wrought. Nor could she ever bring herself to sell it, for reasons she couldn't even begin to fathom.

Slipping it fully back into its sheath, she sat down on the mattress beside it and just looked at it. Absently, she slipped her hand under her shirt and traced part of the scar it had given her, remembering it's master's fingers doing the exact same thing an hour ago.

Gorion's blood had painted that blade at one point. As well as her own.

She still couldn't bring herself to feel repulsed by it.

Taking a deep breath, she hefted the Sword of Chaos once more and slid it beneath her bed. Even though the weapon had been passed to her, from the genie who had been safeguarding it for Irenicus when he stole it, it didn't belong to her. At least, not anymore. Not since she'd brought Sarevok back. By rights, she should return it to him.

She pushed the sword further beneath her bed with her foot.

He can have it back when he's convinced her that he's learned his lesson about the importance of cherishing precious things. Likely, that poor sword would remain under her bed for eternity.

Turning back to her bag, she drew out her bundle of raven feathers that she used for fletching, as well as the tools she used to craft her own arrows. Setting that aside, she reached in once more and grabbed a ring.

Rana furrowed her brow and just sank to the floor this time, crossing her legs to rest her elbows on as she looked at the simple silver ring inlaid with a single black stone. At first glance, it could be called delicate, if plain. Until you touch it and realize it's enchanted with protective magics. Strong ones.

Sarevok had given this ring to her, under the guise of Koveras, just before she confronted Rieltar at Candlekeep. Not long after that fight, she'd found out the identity of the man who gifted it to her and she'd yanked the thing off her finger. She'd been furious at herself for not realizing who he was, and for accepting the ring. She couldn't recall what she'd done with it after that, but she must have held onto it for it to have ended up in her bag of holding.

She didn't know how long she sat there, slowly turning the small circle between her fingers, lost in memories and questions.

Why had he given it to her? Really given it to her, not the excuse he'd used at the time.

A part of her wanted to get up and go ask him, but seeing him again after their encounter in the dining room made her nervous. Not to mention, he'd probably either lie or say something shattering.

Rising to her feet, she placed the ring on the mantle above the fireplace on the opposite end of the room from her bed.

There couldn't be much left in that bag, could there? Couldn't be much else that would exhaust her emotionally.

Lying at the bottom of the purple cloth was her journals, quills, and a jar of ink. Setting the latter on her desk, she ran her fingers over the leather cover of one of her diaries. She hadn't written in ages. Not since… she couldn't remember. She needed to rectify that, but not now. When she began to sort them, five in total, an envelope slipped out from one of them, or from in between two of them, and fell to the floor.

When she bent down to retrieve it, she noticed her name written in unfamiliar handwriting across the front. For some reason, her heart began to pound. Using her fingernail, she broke the wax seal and withdrew a single sheet of parchment paper. Her eyes immediately went to the bottom, to the signature.

Yoshimo.

Her hands began to shake, nearly dropping the letter. She could rip it apart, never seeing what he'd written her. There was no possible good that could come from reading it. Nothing that could remotely help her heal, or forgive him, or anything of the sort. Absolutely zero reasons why she shouldn't destroy it. Her traitorous eyes drifted back up to the top and began to read.

My Rana,

As I sit here writing you this letter, you are fast asleep, making those noises that I get elbowed for if I call them 'snoring', in the inn here in Brynnlaw. I have much to tell you, even though I will not be able to convey hardly any of it. My curse prevents much, but I will try to explain what I can. This will be my last will and testament. My apology. My goodbye.

Tomorrow, we leave this rock for Spellhold. Tomorrow night, one, or both of us, will be gone. I pray to Ilmater that it is I, if only so I will not have to live any longer with this pain. You are one of the strongest women I have had the good fortune of meeting. Nay, the strongest person. So, I do not doubt overmuch that you will see the sunrise that will perhaps be the bleakest you have ever witnessed.

If you are reading this, if you have found my letter among the considerable clutter of your journals, it means you overcame what I could not stop. What I helped set in motion. Just the thought of you holding this parchment, gripped tightly in your delicate hands while you struggle with your beautiful, terrible, wholly justified rage brings me some measure of peace. Because it means you are alive. It is my deepest wish that your fingers are coated in the blood of the one who hurt you, smudging the ink, as well.

Rana, right now, wherever you are when you eventually find this, however long it's been since our trip to Spellhold tomorrow, I know you hate me with the same fiery fury that you hold for the one who is about to steal something precious from you. If I can convince you of anything in this letter, let it be that you cannot hate me nearly as much as I hate myself.

My duty did not require me to share your bed. You may come to believe it did, but I need you to know that that sin was my own doing. From the first moment I saw you in his dungeon I have loved you. I was too weak to resist the yearnings of my heart, and my body, not to reach out and try and hold you to me while I could. Before you are ripped from my arms, I wanted to savor every sigh, every radiant smile, every inch of your silken skin. I was too selfish to consider what it would do to you in the end.

I am sorry. I do not expect your forgiveness. Ever. It is not a thing I deserve or even desire. I will go to whatever circle of Hell awaits me and I will do so gladly, knowing my actions have brought me home at last.

The raucous sounds from the tavern below us are making you stir. Any moment now you'll lift your head, searching for me, then give me that small, beautiful smile that will have me beneath the sheets with you before I am even aware that I am no longer sitting at this desk.

I have said all that I can. Mayhaps it will be enough. For what, I do not know. Your understanding, I suppose. So that, despite what awaits you in the days to come, you will know that, for a brief time, you were deeply loved, even if it was only by a wretch such as myself.

Stay strong, my Rana. Do not let him take who you are along with everything else. The world will be a little less bright for it if he does.

I love you.

Yoshimo

Rana's vision blurred and her entire body quaked with her rage.

How dare he. HOW DARE HE?!

Prior to this, her belief that their relationship had been meaningless to him had only cut so deeply. He had implied love, in his speech at Spellhold, when he revealed Tamoko was his sister, but she came to assume he had been trying to alleviate his own guilt by claiming feelings that were never there. Her self-esteem had taken a hit. Her ego had been badly bruised. Her heart had been sore, and she had nursed the pain with her bitterness at being used.

She could recover from those things. She was recovering.

But now?

The fucking bastard.

Even from beyond the grave he couldn't stop hurting her. Tossing the letter up onto the mantle next to the ring, Rana tried to run her fingers through her hair, but they caught on the pins, pricking her skin hard enough to draw tiny drops of blood. Viciously she pulled them out, letting them fall from her hands to the floor. The crimson specks reminded her of the other day, when the taint had distracted her to the point she couldn't realize she was cutting her hands with her knife. Remembering this made her think of what had come after that.

No, she couldn't think of that either. Sarevok, too, wanted to take without any regard for her feelings. He didn't want her love, or companionship, or even friendship. Just her power. With no regard for how being together would make her feel. Without a single care for what she wanted.

The room seemed to pulse with crimson as the taint tried to consume her pain and grief and replace it with even more anger. She should fight it, force it back, but she didn't want to. If she didn't exorcise it though, it would likely lead to more unintentional self harm. And she was tired of hurting.

Grabbing her cloak from a hook beside her door, she swept it over her, pulling the hood up, but not bringing it low over her face. Then she stuffed her feet into one of her pairs of knee-high boots, buckled her sword belt around her waist, and slung her bow and the quiver hanging on the desk chair over her shoulder.

Locking her bedroom door behind her and slipping the key onto the thin leather necklace that held a thumb-sized blood opal beneath her shirt, Rana made her way downstairs.

"There you are godchild, I was just on my way to come find you."

"Not now, Jaheira," Rana replied, brushing past the druid on her way to the front doors.

"Yes, now, Ilyrana. I've let you put off this talk long enough," the other woman said, moving to block her way.

A wary, and grim, look crossed Jaheira's face when she saw Rana's eyes start to glow.

"Obviously I was right. I should not have been so careless as to not pay attention to the recent changes in you. Forgive me, godchild, I will not be so neglectful in the future."

"What are you talking about?"

"You! This! I can practically see your father's taint warping you right in front of me! Why are you so angry, Rana? Speak to me, we'll calm you down first so that you'll be more receptive to what I have to say."

"My anger doesn't concern you, for now. Be thankful for that. And I already know what you'll say. I don't know why that Protection from Evil spell perceived me as wicked. And frankly I don't give a fuck. Talking about it is a waste of time."

"Gods, child, what's wrong with you? How can you just shrug off something like that? As if being evil is only some minor inconvenience! What would Gorion say if he could see you right now?"

"You think I fucking care what he would think or say?! You think I give his memory a single thought before I do anything? I do what I have to do. Nothing more. And nothing less. Burdening myself with a dead man's opinions is pointless. As is this conversation."

"Do you have any idea who you sound like? I knew this would happen. I've said it all along. Silvanus only knows why you allowed that beast to claw his way out of Hell, because I surely do not. Can't you see what he's doing? He's corrupting you, Rana. He taints everyone and everything around him. I'd hoped you would realize the dangers of keeping him around, even if I could understand your reasoning behind doing so; keeping him on a tight leash prevents him from being able to hurt even more people than he already has. But you need to do something about him, now."

"Sarevok? You think this is about Sarevok?"

Even as Rana mocked the druid's words, she knew there was some truth in them. Sarevok was part of what fueled her anger right now. And he was the entire reason behind her disgust with Gorion. Jaheira knew none of this, though. She was basing her observations on a belief that Rana was too weak-willed to hold up against her half-brother's influence. Which is yet to be seen. Regardless, though, she had no desire whatsoever to discuss morality or be lectured about "maintaining the balance".

"Yes, this is about Sarevok!" Jaheira all but spat his name. "Ever since he came back he's been digging his hooks into you! Eager to watch you fall, in one way or another. You think he wants you to be the one the prophecy is about? You think he cares about anything other than himself? Men like him don't change. Valygar and Keldorn can keep their foolish notions of redemption, they weren't there when Sarevok rose to power and nearly ignited a war. They didn't see what he was like, and how little difference there is between then and now. You can put a collar on a worg but that won't keep him from eventually biting the hand that feeds him. He will turn on you, child, if he hasn't already. You need to get rid of him now."

"Get rid of him how, Jaheira? Are you asking me to attack and kill a member of this group? Based on what he may do? What kind of precedent does that set? How would the others feel knowing I might one day look upon them unfavorably because of you or someone else's paranoia? And then murder them for it? You want to talk to me of evil but then not only condone, but insist I commit an act like that? I should have expected this from you, Jaheira. You are a Harper after all."

"I'm already too late, aren't I? Ilyrana, Sarevok is not some innocent person. Or have you forgotten everyone he's butchered? About the thousands more that would have died in his war? Putting a rabid animal down is not evil, child, it is necessary if you want to keep the contamination from spreading. To prevent it from harming those around it with it's madness."

Ilyrana's eyes were like twin suns now, glowing so brightly that Jaheira had trouble looking her in the face.

"Necessary to keep the contamination from spreading… you honor Gorion's memory with those words, Harper," Ilyrana sneered. "He believed much as you do. That sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good. Be it animals, as you're fond of making analogies to. Or people. Or children."

"What are you talking about, child?"

"I am not a child! Gorion's folly saw to it that I reached maturity. One mistake of many that he made. Listen, well, Jaheira. Until Sarevok does something that I believe warrants his execution, I will do nothing about his presence within this company. Just as I will do nothing about yours until you give me reason to do otherwise. Do not speak of this to me again."

Ilyrana shoved past her and walked out the front doors, barely refraining from slamming them closed behind her. She didn't know where she was going. Or what she would do. She just needed to move. Just needed to breathe without everyone's bullshit pressing down on her.

Heading toward the town proper, she felt that faint tug of awareness from somewhere within this place, again, as she did yesterday. One of her half-siblings. Veering in the direction it was coming from, she pulled her hood down lower to hide her face then slid a hand to one of her knives in her belt.

If she was going to be deemed evil, regardless of whatever she did and didn't do, then she wouldn't balk at what her darker nature urged her to do. Not this time.

Gorion and Jaheira believed it was alright to end a few lives if it meant saving many. Despite the innocence of those being sacrificed. Despite the uncertainty of so many deaths.

So Ilyrana would follow their example and do the same.